


Path

by rravii



Category: UNIQ (Band)
Genre: Also some fluff, Angst, M/M, Mentions of Prostitution, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of drugs, additional warnings:, gang!au i can't help myself orz, quite a bit of angst actually oop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 03:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5076046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rravii/pseuds/rravii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was his life now. A drug dealer with nothing behind him but lies and problems he’d ran away from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Path

**Author's Note:**

> Someone asked for a gang au? No? Well have one anyway.
> 
> Not really sure what this is but it happened. 
> 
> I blame Han Geng

It’s difficult to believe that only a year ago, Sungjoo had been a diligent economics student at a rather respected university. Now, he stands in a laundromat somewhere in China at four in the morning, his bloodied pants and hoodie in one machine and the drug-money from a deal gone bad tumbling in another. 

He used to be a good person, really. But then his money situation went bad, continuously growing worse each day. He’s never lived lavishly, his family had always struggled for money, even though his parents had tried to hide it from him, but his situation was far worse than any of his family’s low points. His parents had been so happy when he’d gotten accepted into the university, singing praise over how good this was, how this would change everything and that Sungjoo would finally be able to live comfortably.

Thinking about their happy faces that day fills Sungjoo up with shame. This wasn’t how they raised him, this wasn’t what they wanted for him in life, so in order to protect them, he’d started weaving a web of lies.

He’s only been in China for a month and a half. Only a few days after he arrived, his parents had called him, and he'd lied that he was on vacation with his friends, possibly even considering becoming an exchange student there. There had been a lump in his throat during the entire conversation and the second his mom hung up, he’d broken down into tears, sobs wrecking his body.

This would prove to be a pattern. Life is so difficult, much more difficult than it had been in Korea, because Sungjoo’s so fucking alone. He hardly speaks Mandarin, even though it has drastically improved since he got here, he lives in a shitty motel room and his entire life revolves around sleeping and selling drugs.

He only really knows three people, two of them being the beef-cakes that were the secondary party between him and his supplier, only meeting him for official business. They’ve been nice to him, well, considering who they are and what they do. They do their best to communicate with Sungjoo, often speaking in short sentences or using key words and pointing, and give him some tips on other criminals in the area and how to stay safer.

The third person is a male prostitute living in the motel room next to Sungjoo. He used to hate him due to how loud he was, but then when Sungjoo was leaving his room one morning to get something to eat, he saw his neighbour sitting in the window of his room, smoking what appeared to be his third cigarette, his hoodie dirty, his jeans worn and ripped, looking absolutely miserable, and Sungjoo realized he might as well have been looking into a mirror.

He’d smiled and greeted him, holding out his pack of cigarettes as an offer, but Sungjoo had simply smiled back at him and declined.

Three days later the same situation had repeated itself, except that time Sungjoo had taken him up on his offer. His neighbour had tried to start up a conversation, but upon realizing Sungjoo didn’t really understand him that well, they resorted to smoking in silence. It’s oddly comforting, just being with someone, and his friend, if he could call him that, seems to feel the same.

He wouldn’t even have been in this shitty situation to begin with if it hadn’t been for Jinwoo.

Fucking Jinwoo.

He’s also an economics student and had befriended Sungjoo rather quickly. He shares Sungjoo’s poor background, except he didn’t struggle for money. Upon asking Sungjoo why he was so stressed, Sungjoo had confessed that he was having money issues, and so Jinwoo had let him in on a little secret. He was friends with some thug who knew a drug supplier and Jinwoo sold his products in return for a rather decent cut. At first, Sungjoo had been disgusted by the offer, but had changed his mind once he got threatened to be evicted.

It went alright for a good while. It was easier if Sungjoo lied to himself that he wasn’t hurting anyone with this - that he was still a good person, even though he was selling drugs. He just twisted his mind and told himself that if it wasn't him doing it, it would just be someone else in his place. The longer he did this, the more he started to believe his own lies. 

But then things started growing more and more tense, Sungjoo happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time on several occasions, and then eventually he got a call from Jinwoo, telling him their dealer had been killed and they were coming for him next.

At least Jinwoo had gotten him the one-way ticket to China and hooked him up with a new supplier. Sungjoo just doesn’t understand why it only had to be him, why Jinwoo didn’t have to come too, why Jinwoo’s friends could protect him and not Sungjoo too.

But this was his life now. A drug dealer with nothing behind him but lies and problems he’d ran away from.

Placing his elbows on the unoccupied machine behind him and leaning on it, Sungjoo focuses his eyes upon the cracked ceiling and furiously blinks back the tears. He wouldn’t cry, not now, not anymore. He’s so damn sick and tired of crying. Maybe he should blow out all his money on cigarettes like his neighbour, it seems to be his way of keeping himself occupied judging by the amount of cigarettes he burns through in a day. Maybe he should turn to drinking instead, or go against everything that he'd been advised against and start using the products he was selling. 

It had been an intense night. It was just a simple dealing job - not any different from any of the other nights, until one of his last customers had refused to pay, and then pulled a knife on Sungjoo when he'd refused to give up the drugs. On impulse, Sungjoo pulled out his knife as well, and quickly struck the man in the thigh, only meaning to maim but not kill. Despite being injured, the man was very intent on getting his product. There was some scuffle between the two, which resulted in the bag of cocaine the man had intended to buy being torn, spilling all over the contents of Sungjoo's bag and the street, and blood from the man's wound being spread onto his shirt and pants. 

No one had ever given him the 101 on what to do when cocaine spreads all over your money, but it seemed the most logical thing for Sungjoo's tired brain to go to a laundromat to clean it, since he needed to clean his clothes anyway. He just wanted to be extra safe - he didn't want his supplier to get angry at him and wind up losing his only income of money. He'd get a smaller cut this time and have to buy himself a new bag, but he'd make due. 

The door to the laundromat opens and Sungjoo’s first reaction is to freeze. The second reaction is to yell at himself for being so fucking stupid for not having locked the door or barred it in some way. He’s not exactly doing something legal and just because the place doesn’t have security cameras doesn’t mean he won’t get caught. Now he’ll have to pull his mouth-muffle on again to cover his face and use his knife to threaten some poor individual who’s just trying to clean their clothes.

But his thoughts die down upon seeing the stranger. He’s tall and has a duffel-bag in his hand, his face familiar, and it takes Sungjoo a few seconds to piece together in his mind where he’d seen him before, but once it dawns upon him, his stomach drops in dread.

The beef-cakes had at one point signaled Sungjoo over, wanting to show him several pictures of people, some of them cops, others criminals. There was one picture Sungjoo remembered particularly. It had initially stood out to him because he’d found the guy to be quite handsome and different from the others, but then it had remained special because one of the guys had tapped his picture, saying the words “dangerous”, “big”, and “mama”. Sungjoo had found the last word to be funny, but the two men hadn’t, the second one emphasizing the word “mama” while making a cut-throat motion with his finger.

Sungjoo wasn’t sure if he was misunderstanding or if Chinese moms were just that terrifying.

He hadn’t asked.

Now he assumes it was the latter, since Sungjoo’s feeling intimidated enough by the other guy, whose name he remembers to be Zhou Yixuan, even though he’s not really doing anything other than standing there.

But then Yixuan turns his head slightly and looks over to the only two occupied machines. They linger there for a moment before he turns his eyes back upon Sungjoo, but very clearly looks him up and down first before their eyes meet again, a glint of humor apparent in the other’s eyes.

That’s the exact moment Sungjoo remembers he’s not wearing any pants.

Placing the duffel-bag down, Yixuan grabs a chair and pulls it over to the door, placing it under the door handle so that it can’t be opened, which was something Sungjoo _should have done_ in the first place if he hadn’t been so damn _stupid_.

He then picks up the duffel-bag and walks past Sungjoo, eyeing his machines again, and stops almost next to Sungjoo, placing the bag down. He crouches down next to the bag and opens it, causing Sungjoo’s eyes to widen when he sees that it’s filled with fresh and new looking cash, even though he shouldn’t have been surprised, considering what Yixuan’s occupation is.

Sungjoo shamelessly stares as Yixuan fills four whole machines with cash, but looks away the second he’s done, trying to play it off like he hadn’t been watching him at all. But then the man speaks, words Sungjoo might have caught if he’d been paying attention and if he'd spoken slower.

“What?” Sungjoo asks in Mandarin, feeling mildly intimidated by his sharp gaze. Yixuan repeats himself, holding up some change, and this time, Sungjoo understands. 

Yixuan has four machines filled with cash but doesn’t have any spare change for them.

At first, Sungjoo tries to reach into his pants pockets but then remembers, once again, that he’s not wearing any pants, so he rushes over to the table where he’d placed his jacket and bag, and fishes out some change. He hands it over to Yixuan, giving him more than’s needed, just to be safe, and has his gaze lowered to the ground as he does, afraid to look into his eyes. Even so, he could feel the other’s eyes on him, and unless his brain was making it up, his hand lingers on Sungjoo’s longer than is needed when he accepts the change.

It’s fairly quiet in there, the only sounds filling the air being the whirring from the machines and the coins falling into the slots, but even so, Sungjoo worries that the thumping of his heart might be loud enough to be heard among those sounds. He silently curses when he looks at the timer of his machines, knowing he’ll have to dry his load as well, so he’ll be stuck with the other man for quite a while.

If he had no idea who he is, he wouldn’t be so worried. Well, of course he would have been terrified, having an unknown man laundering his money at four in the morning, dressed from head to toe in black - skinny jeans, a tight fitted sweater and a leather jacket over, the attire making his bleached hair compliment him all that more. But knowing that the man has a big enough reputation to scare off guys who probably live on steroids and protein shakes, his most terrifying keyword being “mama”, is making cold sweat run down Sungjoo’s back.

How that word became attached to him and said with such fear was something Sungjoo doesn’t want to know. It’s a possibility that it was just a joke on his expense, but upon meeting Yixuan like this and getting a chilling feeling from him right off the bat, it doesn’t sound so likely anymore.

“What’s your name?” Yixuan asks, causing Sungjoo’s breath to get stuck in his throat as he turns to face him. Yixuan is now sat on top of one of the machines behind them, his long legs dangling off the side. The shoes he wears look more expensive than the entire rent Sungjoo’d had to pay at the motel since he arrived.

“Sungjoo.” He responds, hoping that his voice didn’t waver as much as he thinks it did.

Yixuan makes a ‘huh’ face and nods. “My name is Yixuan.” He confirms. Seconds tick by in silence before he speaks again. “You’re Korean?”

Sungjoo nods, turning his gaze to his hands as he fiddles his thumbs, wondering if this small talk is just so or if it will eventually lead to ‘ _oh and also, give me your money_ ’.

“One of my boys is Korean.” Yixuan says, this time in Korean, instantly gaining Sungjoo’s full attention. It’s been so long since he’s heard his native tongue spoken and Yixuan probably knew, judging by how his eyes softened. 

On this interaction alone, Sungjoo’s starting to think he might understand why the man is referred to as a mom. It’s odd, he’s been warned that the man is dangerous and he’s very clearly laundering a shitload of money at the early hours in the morning, and he also has this aura radiating off him that’s screaming at Sungjoo to be cautious, but the way he’s speaking to Sungjoo is somehow calming, making him very confused as to if he should be scared or not.

It's probably one of the reasons as to why he's considered to be so dangerous. 

“Oh.” Is all Sungjoo can respond with, but in an attempt to make up for it, he hoists himself up onto the machine behind him, trying to mirror Yixuan’s body language to try to show that he’s interested. He grimaces as his bare skin comes in contact with the cold metal but tries to mask it.

Yixuan doesn’t elaborate further. Instead, he asks, “What brought you here?”

Sungjoo remains silent for a moment, uncertain how much he should reveal to the man. The civil conversation and the soothing effects the man is having on Sungjoo are very likely intentional, and could easily come back and bite him if he’s not careful. “A chain reaction beyond my control.”

“Pissed off the wrong person?” Yixuan questions. 

“Something like that.” Sungjoo replies, a bit too dryly. 

Silence falls between the two of them after that. Sungjoo watches the machine with his money spin circle after circle as the thoughts of what his life had become flood to him again. It’s funny, in a dark way, the path he’d been forced to take. Maybe even a little like a movie, except it’s one of those sad ones - he doesn’t predict that he’ll have a happy ending.

A small but sad smile had spread on Sungjoo’s lips and before he can catch himself, he starts speaking.

“Life’s funny sometimes, isn’t it? A few wrong choices and suddenly you’re on your underpants in a laundromat with someone you’ve been warned against, waiting for blood t-” Sungjoo cuts himself off when his voice breaks and his eyes start tearing up.

No. No, no, no, no, _no_. Not now, please, _not now_ , he couldn’t break down now. Not in front of Yixuan.

Biting his lip, Sungjoo lowers his head, keeping his gaze on the ground as he furiously blinks back the tears, but his eyes just keep welling up more and more, until tears are streaming down his cheeks. A machine beeps loudly, but the sound is cut off quickly, so Sungjoo assumes it was one of Yixuan’s. He doesn’t want to raise his head, anyway. He doesn’t want to face the other man, not in this state.

God, he must look so _pathetic_. Yixuan had just attempted to have a lovely little small talk with him and Sungjoo just had to break down and cry like a little bitch. His arms start shaking and fear slowly creeps up on him again. He’s so annoying, so fucking pathetic, and Sungjoo wouldn’t blame him if the blonde would just kill him and take his money.

Maybe it would just be for the best. It didn’t matter, anyway. 

Nothing did anymore.

Sungjoo breathes in sharply when he feels a hand on his chin, gently lifting it up, forcing him to look up from the floor. Yixuan is right there in front of his face, eyes soft and full of pity and it just makes Sungjoo want to cry even harder because it’s _so fucking pathetic_ , but before he can do anything, Yixuan has brought forward his free hand and is wiping away Sungjoo’s tears with his sleeve, his leather jacket discarded somewhere.

“Even though you stumble upon the wrong path, you can’t just sit down and give up. You have to keep going. Eventually, you’ll find the right path.” 

Taking life advice from a dangerous criminal is probably something you shouldn’t do, but Sungjoo wasn’t exactly a saint either - while he didn’t really look at himself as dangerous, he’d definitely done a number of things that could land him a decently long prison sentence, so he might as well listen. 

“I’m sorry.” Sungjoo chokes out, voice raspy, so he clears his throat before speaking again. “It’s just - I’m just tired.” 

Thankfully, it wasn’t a fully blown-out breakdown, the tears stopped streaming quickly after Yixuan’s advice, and Sungjoo is certain a part of it is because he finally got some form of comfort. He’d never broken down when smoking with his neigbour, despite the two of them sitting in silence with nothing but smoke and their misery looming over their heads. 

It’s very soothing how Yixuan gently caresses his cheeks dry with his sleeves. The pity has lessened, but he’s still got a soft look to his face, and his touches are very gentle, almost like he’s handling something fragile. 

It could be argued that he is. 

Yixuan is very handsome, there’s no denying that. Sungjoo had been a little surprised seeing his picture among those people, most of them looking like they were in their thirties and up, faces rugged and hard, some even scarred.

Yixuan had stood out. He was younger, looking like he was in his mid-twenties, yet he was listed among those powerful individuals. His face had been hard, like the others, and his piercing eyes had been captured decently by the headshot. In the picture, they’d been cold and intense, but now, his eyes were softer but just as intense, making it almost impossible for Sungjoo to look away from him, despite his cheeks warming up a little under the gaze. 

If he’d understood the two beef-cakes correctly, Yixuan had ties to another criminal on there, Han Geng was his name, if he remembered correctly. He was handsome as well, but older and rougher. The two men hadn’t liked him at all, avoiding to even look at his picture out of what Sungjoo assumed was fear.

Now, as he sits there, the soft fabric of Yixuan’s sweater delicately tracing his cheeks, even though the tears have stopped and his cheeks are dry, it’s difficult to imagine the man opposite him harming others. 

But just like Sungjoo, something must have happened to drive him into the arms of this lifestyle. Whatever it was, Sungjoo is glad he still has some kindness left in him. 

A beep coming from a machine is essentially what makes Yixuan pull away. That one was one of his own machines, one beeping after the other, and when Yixuan crouches down to remove the now crumpled and worn money from the machine and into his bag, it dawns upon Sungjoo that the beeping from before had been coming from one of his machines. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw that his clothes and money had been moved from the washing machines and over to a dryer. On top of one of the machines lay Yixuan’s leather jacket. 

“You said you were warned against me?” Yixuan spoke. His tone sounded curious but he had his back to Sungjoo as he was busy with stuffing his cash into the duffel-bag. Normally, Sungjoo would have been wary not being able to see Yixuan’s expression regarding such a question, but after their previous situation, Sungjoo felt more inclined to trust him. 

“Yeah.” Sungjoo began. “I was shown pictures of several people as a warning, I think, and every person was described with a few key-words. Yours were... interesting.” 

That causes Yixuan to stop and he straightens up, turning to face Sungjoo. It looks like he’s holding back a smile. “Oh?”

“The, uh, the first things they said was rather generic.” Sungjoo explains, suddenly feeling a bit more timid under Yixuan’s gaze. “The last word was “mama”. I don't know, I might be misunderstanding, but... they said it like - like it was something to be feared.” 

Yixuan simply hummed and went back to gathering the money from the third machine, and that caused uneasiness to grab a tight hold of Sungjoo again. It’s so frustrating, the effects of how he acts has on Sungjoo - he isn’t certain how to feel or what to think about him. He doesn’t know what he can say or what he can’t, and after his previous experiences with people in this field, he fluctuates between trusting him or being prepared for him to suddenly explode. 

“You’re not misunderstanding.” Yixuan says then, casually, once he’s done filling his bag and has gotten up from the floor. He moves towards Sungjoo and puts the bag down so that he can put his jacket back on. But once he’s gotten it on, he doesn’t pick up the bag and leave. Instead, he glances down to the dryer with Sungjoo’s money, and then turns to him. 

“You’re only getting a cut of that, right?”

The question gives a kick to his uneasiness, but he decides to remain honest. It’s worked well so far. 

“Yeah.” Sungjoo responds after a moment in silence. 

Yixuan hums again and reaches down to pick up his bag. “If you want to earn more, come seek me out. I might have a job for you.” Any kind of stuttered out response with nothing behind it gets completely wiped from Sungjoo's mind when Yixuan looks him over again, like he'd done when he first saw him. “I wouldn’t mind having someone like you on my team. It shouldn’t be too difficult for you to find me. You’re on my turf, anyway.” 

Sungjoo watches in stunned silence as Yixuan walks with his bag towards the exit. He removes the chair and places it just next to the door, probably expecting Sungjoo to stick it under there again when he’s gone, and leaves the laundromat. 

The familiar noises of whirring fills the air again as Sungjoo sits there, eyes still on the door Yixuan had just exited through. It took a moment for it to register to Sungjoo that Yixuan had downright just flirted with him and a pink tinge spreads on his cheeks. 

Sliding down from the machine, Sungjoo goes over to the chair and places it under the doorknob again. The clock is nearing five and soon people will start to wake up, but he expects to be out of there before people start showing up to actually wash their clothes. 

He returns to the machine, hoisting himself up on it again, and tells himself he’ll be using the remaining time until the timer runs out on the machines to consider Yixuan’s offer. 

He winds up not needing it, however, because he makes the decision almost instantly. He might as well. He doesn’t really have anything to lose, anyway. 

Maybe teaming up with Yixuan will lead him onto the right path again.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, Yixuan's street name is "Mama". Don't touch his babies.


End file.
